About three weeks ago I sent BB the following email:
Subject Line: A Request
It is with great regret that I write this email.
After years of delay and indignant resignation, I simply can’t avoid it anymore. I simply can’t ignore the facts or the toll the years have taken. So despite my intense and deep-seated reservations, it is time to act. It is time for me to wear make-up.
This pregnancy is really taking a toll on my skin. In addition to feeling fat and like crap most days, I look washed out and so not cute. So there’s no more space for denial or pseudo-political objections. The time has come for me to enter the world of make-up.
But here’s the problem. I don’t know a lick about make-up. Seriously, not one single thing. I think I know what I like and what I don’t like. But I don’t know how to achieve what I like and avoid what I don’t like. Also, I might have just lied; I might not know at all what I like and don’t like.
So here it comes; the big ask. Will you help me figure this out? I can’t promise it will be fun. I can’t promise you will feel those warm and fuzzy feelings of achievement afterward. I can’t promise that you won’t want to punch me in the face from time to time. But I can promise a laugh or two. Likely at my own expense. Or – let’s be honest – the expense of innocent strangers.
So what do you think?
Much to my surprise, BB accepted the challenge and two weeks ago we were sitting at a Bobbie Brown counter in Nordstrom.
No, not this Bobby Brown:
Tho if you saw Whitney on Oprah talking about how Bobby decided to become an artiste and began painting – sorry, spray painting – pictures of eyes all over their bedroom, I could see how you might be confused by this.
I mean this Bobbi Brown:
Yes, this actually happened. And yes, I allowed the gentleman working the counter to put make up on my face.
From foundation, powders, and concealers, to eye shadow and eyeliner, to mascara and eye brow enhancements, I hung in there like a champ. I barely complained. I mean, I was forced to ask a million questions. That dude just assumed that I understood what he was doing and why it was important. Which I didn’t. But overall, I think I did well. BB even said so. And I liked what he did. I think I even cracked the code on what a smoky eye actually is.
Turns out, I don’t care if it’s lipstick, lip gloss, or some other tinted lip thingy, I don’t like it. I don’t like the way it feels. I don’t like the way it looks. I just don’t like it. Luckily this came way at the end of our session, so I wasn’t a total freak. I mean, I allowed that dude to paint every other part of my face. But for my super dry and ashy lips? I will take just balm, thanks.
BB advised me on what to buy with Bobbi Brown and what we should go to Target/Sephora to get. I spent like a million dollars. Then I spent another million at Sephora. (Best Sephora purchase? This Benefit lip exfoliate and silky balm. Oh. My. G-d. Fucking amazing. BB, when you are right, you are right.) Then another million at Target. But I have all the stuff I need should I decide to implement make up into my routine.
And BB was incredible. Don’t get me wrong. She laughed at me. A lot. And she and the make up guy spent a lot of time discussing my ineptitude in front of me. But she didn’t seem like she wanted to punch me even once. True miracle.
More on my progress with this later.